


Unintended Entanglement

by herasux



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Belly Dancing, M/M, mentions of Turkey/France, rome sneaking into peoples' homes, wine stealing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herasux/pseuds/herasux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rome has been watching his sons grow up and struggle through the life of a nation for as long as he could remember, but when he remembers that he had forgotten to threaten a former enemy of both his sons like a good Roman should, he leaves his hidden home in Sicily to visit Turkey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unintended Entanglement

**Author's Note:**

> I've only seen Rome/Turkey one time, and I can't remember if that was an AU or something historical, so here goes nothing.

Whether he was half dead or half alive, Rome did not know--not that it mattered much at the moment--as he stood before the home of the man who had originally threatened to claim Romano when he was the Ottoman Empire and furthered took on his dear Feliciano when he had come to be called Turkey. Sure, he had not singled out anyone else since that faithful time with his fan and saint, Germany who was remarkably similar to his guard and friend, Germania, but this was a great offense--one that he wasn't going to take lightly. Plus, he was curious about the man as he wore a mask which meant that the Roman had never seen his face--or rather, his eyes as modern Turkey still wore that mysterious mask, but kept the rest of his face visible so Rome was able to notice that he had stubble on his chin with an overall rather pleasant half of a lower face, but his eyes were still not visible! The stubble hinted at an older man who could possibly be just as old--if not a bit younger--than himself. That, in itself, was interesting as well. It had been a while since he had met another man close to his own age.

He couldn't shake the feeling that such a place--this city--was familiar to him, however.

Stepping towards the door, he walked through it as though he was a ghost, but paused upon entering the living room. It seemed surprisingly comfortable which such plush looking furniture and a low sitting coffee table in which one of those TV turners sat untouched; the room certainly seemed fit for a king who enjoyed great comforts that bedding could provide. Seeing as the Turk was not in the living room, he moved on from there and passed by the open kitchen only to double back. A bottle of wine had been left out untouched as though welcoming the Roman, so he retrieved with a pleased grin and walked onward, down a long hall that lead to a pair of oddly shaped double doors. It almost felt like taking a step back in time due to how the home was built, but it was still foreign as he had not come in contact with the Ottoman Empire in his younger years nor when he had been inching towards his impossible end.

Pushing the doors open, surprised not by the thickness, but how easy they moved, he was greeted to the sound of drums. The doors had opened into an outside garden with a single stone path that lead towards a building in the back that looked just as foreign as the rest of the house, in which the music seemed to be coming from. Such heat though--it reminded him of Ancient Egypt, and clearly a toga was still a poor choice here as it had been there. The music called to him, made him want to dance and kind of reminded him of the days of his time with Ancient Greece who used slightly similar drum beats for a mysterious dance he had wished for all the world he had seen before his decline and even now, hearing the music; the claim had been that it had been a provocative dance that women had mastered well. It tugged at him, pulling him towards the building which had a single door made of frosted glass. In dark green, cursive lettering were the words "dance studio" written on the front which made the Roman smile. So ... this man was a either a teacher of dance or something of the sort? The Gods seemed to be blessing him with the favor of seeing a dance today for they knew, without a doubt, that the former empire was very much attracted to the art of the dance.

Grasping hold of the handle with his free hand, he idly enjoyed the music filtering through and pulled the door open before entering. An immediate gust of cool air greeted him, giving way to the realization that this building was well air conditioned--as Feliciano had explained to him once--like the separate home towards the front. It was a great relief after stepping out into such sweltering heat. The part of the floor he had stepped on was made of a blue, mat-like material, possibly for guests as there were more plush pillows gathered in a pile on the space, but the other half of the floor was a light, polished wood which was obviously the area used for dancing. Glancing up from the floor, the music settled into his very bones, but he did not dance as his dark brown eyes settled on the figure dancing away before a mirrored wall, one that hadn't even noticed him actually. All thoughts of why he originally came here had been forgotten in a moment's time.

The man standing several feet away from him was moving his hips in such a way that had the Roman's gaze moving from his body as a whole down towards the naked expansion of bare back that was visible for his own viewing pleasure--down the delightful curve of his spine to his exposed hips to the tantalizing tease of a familiar starting crevice that was there due to the way the buttocks was molded. He appeared to be a seasoned dancer who was enjoying his use of flirty moves that beckoned the Roman forward. The man wore a skirt like garment that was a royal purple in color, stopping around mid-thigh and adorned in hanging teardrops of gold to compliment the semi-transparent, beige shirt like garment that only seemed to cover the brunet's arms; the noise the jingling golden beads made only further made the Roman want to cease those hips with his hands as they were attention attracters. Seeing as the skirt was short, it gave way to a pair of fantastic legs that were strong and nimble, surprisingly hairless, but maybe that was how the Turk preferred his legs to be. His skin was darker than Rome's own, a wonderful olive which was associated with those of the Mediterranean, and certainly it seemed to shine with a light sheen of sweat built up from his vigorous dancing.

His dance was beautiful--and foreign, making blood rush through Rome in every direction, especially south. It mattered not that his cheeks and ears were heating up; he thought it a compliment towards such lovely dancing. Thankfully, his growing arousal was easily hidden from view due to the toga. Sometimes, it could be a godsend.

Dark eyes glanced toward the mirror a second time, hoping to get a look at the other's eyes, but they were closed shut in concentration as the olive body continued sway, flirt, and tease its uninvited audience. Deciding that he wanted to get close to the dancer and perhaps get his name, he set the stolen bottle of wine down carefully and removed his sandals before padding barefoot towards the other. When he was able to get close enough, he felt that today was in his favor as the brunet paused in his routine, swaying in place, and without another second lost, Rome pressed up against him from behind, resting his hands on exposed hips.

Sadik had been in the middle of his routine when he felt a body press up against him from behind and hands rested on his hips. He didn't tense however, not one to be startled lightly, but whoever it was seemed to have taken an interest in his dancing; there was no doubt that it was a man judging by the feel of his hands. As long as they didn't go any further, he'd continue his routine once they had moved away and settled on dancing against the unknown man pressed into his back. The hands on his waist tightened as a result, and hips swayed in time with his own, keeping their lower halves pressed snugly together. Sadik couldn't help but flush despite the fact that he was a mature man. There was a growing arousal pressed up against his ass for Allah's sake! The Turk didn't know any men so "friendly" other than Francis, but it had been a long time since he had been approached that way by the blond, so it couldn't be him. He opened his eyes at half-mast, sort of flattered since he was getting old, after all.

He would get to the bottom of this, however, and turned around to face the other only to find a pair of dark, heated eyes staring at him with such intensity, the Turk was startled, but he was thrust back into reality when sneaking hands curved towards his ass, cupping both cheeks as though they right at home where they were. The man's face was foreign to him--one that he didn't recognize from his own life, but the more he stared, the more he began to think that ... that--! The touchy-feely hands, the European features, and the brown hair--! Those two--he definitely had to be the family of those two, definitely.

"Are ya a family member of those Italians?" he asked as he tried to pry the hands off his hands by grabbing hold of the other's wrists, but it only prompted the hands to tighten on his ass, making the Turk wonder if the attempt to remove those hands was futile. "Will ya _ease up_ \--dear Allah!"

Licking his lips softly as though anticipating a feast, the Roman began to smirk when he found that face staring at him. If such a man had been present during the time of his reign, he could only wonder as to how many times they would have joined. He decided not to answer the brunet's question in favor of taking in those enticing golden eyes which were hooded by a pair of long, beautiful lashes. From the sweep of his brows to the bridge of his nose to the curve of his lips, Rome found his stomach fluttering some with a foreign emotion as he stood there. It was frightening, this new emotion--it was one that he did not know--was not anger, lust, hate, pleasure, sorrow, happiness--none of the emotions that he had experienced before. He did know, however, that he wanted this man, the one known as Turkey like he never wanted another man before. Perhaps he would get his chance to try such things with men that were popular in Rome and Greece--things he had always been more than ready to try with women, but had always held a lingering curiosity as to what it'd be like with a man. The stubble on his face was a turn-on, surprisingly as it was different from the smooth faces of girls and woman.

Pulling him flush against him, he peered down at the Turk, not taking his eyes away from his face as he spoke.

"Give me your name," he commanded softly, but it didn't exactly seem too much like a command seeing as he had spoken so softly.

"It's Sadik," the Turk replied, swallowing a little and pressed his hands against the other's chest in an attempt to get some space between them. Even though he was in his own house, and he liked men and women equally, this was still frowned upon in Turkey. "Give me a bit of space--what's _yer_ name?"

"My name is Augustus," the Roman replied, keeping a firm hold on the shorter man and began to swiftly walk them back towards the pile of pillows laying innocently on the mat on the other side of the room.

Wait--where were they going?! Sadik tried his hardest to dig his heels into the wood and twist his way out of the other man's grip in vain for those arms tightened like steel bands, hinting at the power the other once had. A fight wouldn't be worth getting into either as the costume he was wearing was one of his nicer ones. This was getting ridiculous, and even though he had been flattered, damnit--he wasn't going to do this here in the dance studio! Clients came here weekly!

"I like women fiesty, and even though you aren't one, you're proving to make me yearn for you even more so, bello."

"I dun't want yer pet names--!"

He easily hefted the Turk and fell with him onto the pillows, amused by the "Oof!" that escaped the younger man's mouth upon impact. Rome landed on his back, the softness of pillows holding their combined weight before he rolled them over swiftly, more of a conquerer than one to be conquered. Hovering above Sadik now, he grinned in triumph and wrestled the brunet's wrists together. "Come now. Don't fight. I know what I want, and I always get what I want, _Sadik_."

"Look--ya can't--we can't--not here--I have customers who come here--!"

The Roman allowed this to fall on deaf ears, however, as he tied up the Turk's wrist with double knots to ensure that he wouldn't be using his hands anytime soon. Scrutinizing his handiwork for a moment, he took hold of Sadik's chin into his hand firmly and pressed a fierce kiss to his lips, intending to devour the Turk whole with his lips and tongue alone. It was more than easy to get the other man to open up a bit when he brushed a hand against that curl of his--a weakness they both seemed to share, but only hand touches were effective for some odd reason. When Sadik's lips parted to release a choked noise, he shoved his tongue inside to sample at the flavor of him which was spicy, heady, and addictive rolled into one arousing taste. He groaned softly against the Turk's mouth as Sadik tried in vain to get free of the sash and ignore the kiss all together.

It was hard for the Turk to ignore such a fierce, wanting kiss however. He hadn't been kissed like that, well, within half a century, at least, but this was a man who he hardly knew--one that was trying to break down his defenses quickly just to get between his thighs. He willed his brain not to fall to mush as he laid there for a few moments of feeling the Roman's questing tongue before beginning to respond to it in an attempt to "fight back".

With his hands free now, Rome pulled away--even though he was reluctant--and trailed his nails lightly along the Turk's visible chest, but paused at his nipples, pink--which was nice--but they weren't as perky as he usually would like, so taking his pointer fingers, he circled the nubs gently until they began to hardening some. Upon seeing the change, he added his thumb as well and began to squeeze them gently which granted him a shudder curtesy of his willing partner. Hopefully, he would be able to extract more than a simple shudder from the man under him, already thinking that it wouldn't be too bad to stay in Ankara for a while. The wine would be put to good use...


End file.
